La Que Tiene La Informacion
by 66Dragon
Summary: There are many stories in the world, and somehow, they all intertwine. Sombra is eager to learn exactly how. Recruiting former members of Overwatch, friends she's made and fellow Talon agents, the brilliant hacker is determined to learn exactly how and why Overwatch fell, and how it connects to her.
1. Dia De Los Muertos

**Day of the Dead  
Dorado, Mexico  
Sundown**

The purple-haired girl couldn't stop twiddling her fingers. The sharp, purple nails clicked against each other in rapid succession as she strolled down the street – not afraid of being seen, but not looking to, either. A gentle breeze flapped the high collar of her royal purple trench-coat. Her face was painted to match those around her. The stark-white makeup and skull-like features helped to hide her face from any surveillance equipment, not that she would be flagged on it, and covered her signature neon-green _Los Muertos_ tattoo.

She glanced over her shoulder, nails still clacking against each other as she turned down an alleyway, then another, a third and fourth until finally she ducked suddenly into the back entrance of a small restaurant. It was very crowded, something she had been counting on and hoping for. Several dozen partyers were all dressed up, much like herself. Some only wore skull masks which they had set to the side in order to eat the endless chips, guac and enchiladas. Others wore full outfits of black with white bone outlines stenciled on.

In the corner bright neon tattoos glowed over omnics and humans alike as the _Los Muertos_ gang celebrated the _Dia de Los Muertos_ in loud and festive style. The hacker glanced around for a moment before heading to the unseen back corner of the restaurant. She turned, sliding past two guests who bumped into her, almost knocking her uzis out from under her trench coat. She was resisting the almost insatiable urge to activate her thermoptic camouflage and simply disappear as she had so many times. To _Los Muertos_ she was either dead or a traitor, and neither bode well to be spotted by the gang – especially after they had consumed alcohol.

Finally she made it though, and she slid into the booth, glancing around the corner once more to make sure she hadn't been seen.

"You seem a little jumpy." An aging feminine voice with a heavy Egyptian accent called.

Sombra turned to Ana Amari, ignoring her comment. "Three dead people in a booth on _dia de los muertos_ , ironic, no?"

"Whatcha got, kid?" the gruff voice of Jack Morrison called. He sat perhaps farthest back in the shadows, slouched in his seat, signature Soldier: 76 jacket unzipped halfway and a cup of beer in his hand.

"I'm no _nina_ , gramps." She retorted.

"No," Soldier responded. "You've got the attitude of a spoiled five year-old."

"Jack, hush!" Ana chastised. "You called us, Sombra. What do you want?"

Ana's voice was soft and gentle, like a mother's would be. It reminded Sombra of Fareeha Amari and how strong Ana's daughter was, even after the fall of Overwatch and her mother's death.

"To make a friend." Sombra grinned. Her confidence was returning, but her paranoia persisted. She slid further into the booth and waved her fingers at the digital menu. A waiter omnic hovered over, delivering a prismatic alcoholic drink in a margarita glass. The hacker swallowed it in one mouthful and set the glass back down, turning to the waiter with puffed out cheeks and holding up two fingers.

"You said you had something?" Soldier asked.

"Yes," Sombra responded, waving her fingers and pulling up several holo images. "But first, you."

"Us?" Soldier asked, sitting up.

Ana slid her hand into her trench-coat and a moment later pulled out a small box. She slid it across the table, glancing outward, away from Jack, as she did. Sombra opened the box and grinned at the contents.

" _Muchos gracias_!" she grinned from ear to ear, pocketing the box.

"What was that?" Soldier demanded, sitting straight up now.

"Careful not to raise your voice, _Jack_." Sombra smirked. "Wouldn't want to attract the attention of _Los Muertos_ or _la policia_ , yes?"

Jack sat back. "I'll explain later, Jack." Ana promised softly.

The waiter returned and set the two drinks down. Sombra picked up one and sipped it.

Sombra spun the holo-images with a smooth flick of her wrist, flattening them and sliding them over to the two veterans. Soldier moved, craning his neck to see.

"The Swedish base, where it all went _murcielago_ ," Sombra said, leaning in as if she could be overheard. "It was a Talon op."

"We know as much." Soldier said, studying the images – grisly surveillance footage and crime scene photographs floating centimeters above the table.

"What you don't know is that it wasn't yours or Gabrielle's fault."

Both looked up at this.

"What're you talking about?" Soldier demanded.

"Angela Zeigel mentions in her official report to the United Nations that the explosive confrontation between you two caused the downfall, but she's quiet on details and the rest of Overwatch is, well, _absolutamente silencioso_. What no-one knows, no-one but me, is that Talon had infiltrated Overwatch from the very beginning. Not a core member, but one of the first afterwards was a plant. They seeded conflict between the two of you without either of you knowing. _They_ planted the explosives. _They_ are to blame."

"Who was it?" Ana asked, looking up.

"Don't know," Sombra replied, leaning back and finishing her first drink. "But they worked for Argus."

"Argus?" Ana asked.

"A mythical being with a thousand eyes." Sombra explained. "Talon may be a shark, but the organization above them? That's the whale."

Clearly the two Founding Members did not know anything about a second organization.

"Not to worry," Sombra replied, reading their expressions with a knowing smile. "I don't think anyone knows of them."

"So what you're telling us is that Overwatch was doomed from the beginning; that Talon had infiltrated our earliest recruits and engineered our downfall without us knowing?"

"Exactly," Sombra replied, picking up the second drink and taking a sip out of it. She waved her fingers and the images slid back into her hand where she compressed them into a small cube and snapped her fingers, it disappearing.

"I'll hold onto these for safe-keeping." She winked, taking another sip. "In the meantime, maybe you can round up some of your _amigos_ and see what they know. Try to not tell them too much though. I don't trust them." Her eyes squinted. "And you shouldn't either."

"Any suggestions on where to start?" Soldier asked, his beer sitting on the table, abandoned.

"Well, I've already talked to Joel…"

"Joel?" Ana asked.

"Jesse McCree." Sombra giggled, covering her mouth with the tips of her fingers, laughing at a joke only she understood. "It seems he was truly incompetent about what was going on with Blackwatch. _Vaquero_ was only there for the excitement and redemption."

Soldier nodded. "We'll get started." Ana nodded, a serious expression on her face. "Thank you for bringing this to us."

"You two've been looking for a long time. I figured I should help out."

The two looked slightly surprised.

"I've got my fingers in all the pies." Sombra laughed, finishing her final drink. She moved to leave, but Ana put a hand on hers – and Sombra quickly snatched her hand away.

"You took a great risk coming to us. Why?"

Sombra hesitated, only for a second, but long enough for Ana to pick up on.

"Because the world needs _Los Protectores_." The hacker responded.

She stood up. "Mind if I tell Fareeha you said 'hello'?" Sombra grinned. She giggled at the astounded look on Ana's face and waved her fingers.

" _Adios_ ," and she was gone in a flash of purple.

The two veterans sat there for a moment. Finally Jack picked up his beer and took a guzzle. "Kid's got issues."

Ana stared at the spot where the hacker had stood, an unknown emotion on her face. "How much do you think she knows?"

"What're you talking about?" Jack asked.

"She never said anything about herself and managed to avoid saying anything of substance – anything other than what she came here to deliver. And the way she was talking about Sweden – she knows."

Fear crept onto Jack's face. "Why would she help us?"

"Maybe she doesn't know the whole story. Or maybe she does and just believes in Overwatch enough to look past mistakes."

"That's a big mistake." Jack responded, his glass empty.

Silence.

"What'd you give her anyway?"

Sombra reappeared on the rooftop across the street, her body re-forming on the pre-planted teleporter. She squatted down, pulling the payment she had received from Ana out of her pocket, opening it and smiling.

 _"A symbol of the past, and maybe, of the future." Ana responded._

Sombra pulled out the medal, the tips of her nails holding it. The signature Overwatch logo engraved on one side. She flipped it. On the other side, engraved in Arabic, was the phrase " _For my daughter, Fareeha, may she live in a safer world."_ Only a dozen of these had been made – handed out by the United Nations at the end of the First Omnic Crisis to the members of Overwatch who had helped bring an end to the war.

She pulled up surveillance from a camera inside the restaurant. She watched the two veterans talk. She zoomed in on their faces and saved it as an image. She looked at it for a moment, then with a tap of her finger, filed it away.

"Boop!"


	2. On Wings

_**Middle East  
Helix Security Corp.'s  
Operation: Black Soil**_

Fareeha Amari crunched sand beneath blue, metal boots. The new moon shone over-head, the circular shapes of New Horizon's abandoned lunar base decorating the orbiting body's face like tattoos. The cool desert wind blew over her armor, up, underneath her helmet, cooling her face. She almost shivered – her suit's ventilation systems and the already chilled desert night spurring chillbumps to run down her arms. Fareeha loved it. It had been too long since she had been in the desert.

A groan came from her escort, however.

"We have been walking for over an hour, Fareeha. I am tired."

"Watch your voice, Dr. Zeigler, or you'll get us caught." Fareeha chastised.

"Where are ve even going?" Angela asked, jogging to walk beside the dutiful soldier. "You asked me to bring my Valkyrie suit, and you said you needed my help, but you never expanded."

"I'm compartmentalizing information." Fareeha responded. "If we get split up and captured, I can't have you revealing what Helix knows."

"I can suffer some pain, Fareeha. You know this." Angela was almost hurt.

Fareeha turned to her, still walking, but a serious glint in her tattooed eye. "I know, Ang, but you don't know what Talon is capable of. They killed my mother—" A shadow crossed her mind, a glint of revenge in her eye. "They're very capable people."

"I know," Angela responded. "You forget, I served alongside your mother."

Silence.

"She is missed."

Fareeha muttered something in Arabic. Angela recognized it. It was a prayer of safety Ana had always said before battle.

"We are close. Stay near to me and be ready for a quick escape." Fareeha whispered, dropping to a crawl in the sand.

Angela dropped next to her, but harder than the well-trained Amari. Sand splattered her face and some fell down her armor.

"Ugh." Angela grunted. "I hate sand."

Fareeha crawled to the top of the closest dune and looked down into the valley. There, on the horizon, was the sparkling gem of _Oasis_ , a technologically advanced city created by the greatest minds in the world. Closer to them, and just down the hill however, was a small encampment.

"Talon." Fareeha muttered.

"So vhy are we here?" Angela asked.

"There's a hostage in the big tent, and we're here to get them out, Dr. Zeigler."

"Who?" Angela asked.

Fareeha didn't smile or respond at all. Angela knew from being friends with Fareeha for so long that she didn't know either. Instead, the soldier turned to stare the doctor in her crystal-blue eyes. "Go, get them."

Before Mercy could ask anything else, Pharah launched into the sky with a deafening roar and soared across Talon's camp. Soldiers looked up, startled and stupefied. Then one grabbed his rifle and fired at Pharah, and the rest followed suit.

Mercy watched for a moment as Pharah dodged and weaved fire, returning rockets at the enemy. Then, she slid down the hill, using her Valkyrie wings to glide over to the large tent. She could hear movement inside and was debating how to get in and out. She was distracted as Pharah's rockets lit up the far side of the camp, soldiers flocking out of the tent towards the action. Mercy waited a moment, hearing no more movement, and was about to enter when she heard heavier, more dangerous footsteps leaving the makeshift metal floor of the building and beginning to crunch sand.

A growling voice chilled the already cool air.

" **What's going on out here?"**

A soldier stopped, saluting. "Sir, there's an attack by a Helix operative on the far side of the camp!"

The grim figure of Reaper turned and looked, then waved the soldier on.

" **How did Helix find us?"** He growled to himself. He watched for a moment more. **"And Helix never works—"**

His hand closed around Mercy's throat faster than she could react. "Alone."

"Agh!" she exclaimed.

A cold laugh filled the air. **"Fancy meeting you here, Dr. Zeigler."** He chuckled. **"The one person who escaped Overwatch with everything intact."**

"Ack!" Mercy struggled in his grip. He threw her to the ground.

" **Well, you can only run for so long, before the Reaper finds you."**

He pulled out twin shotguns and aimed them at her.

A small explosion hit several feet away, from behind Reaper, but blasted him off of his feet. Angela coughed as sand sprayed her.

"Mercy! Move!" Fareeha shouted, coming in for a landing, her feet absorbing the shock of her descent, her concussion grenade reloading. Mercy stood up, grabbed her staff, and fled into the tent as Reaper made his way back to his feet.

Pharah launched rockets around them, surrounding them with fire and debris, leaving the two in a scorched arena.

" **Amari."** Reaper growled.

"You recognize me, but I don't recognize you." Fareeha said, cautiously.

" **Doubt you would."** Reaper growled, tossing his shotguns away.

Fareeha gave him an inquisitive look.

" **Better hope Dr. Zeigler can reconstruct a second person, because Jack Morrison is going to need it."** Reaper laughed.

Shock froze Fareeha, long enough for Reaper to pull out twin shotguns and land a hit before she launched into the air, hoverjets keeping her airborne.

" _Fareeha, you're not going to believe who this is—"_

"Mercy?" Pharah called over the radio. "You need to get out of there, _right now_!"

" _It's Captain Morrison!"_

"I know!"

Reaper fired several blasts into the air, but the shrapnel merely clinked off of Pharah's armor.

" **Fine, we're taking this indoors!"**

Pharah dropped, knees buckling as she landed. Reaper turned and strode back inside the tent.

Jack was leaning wearily against a stack of boxes. Mercy tried to get him on his feet. Jack growled at the tent door and Mercy turned, gasping.

" **Let's see how much of an Angel you really are…"** Reaper growled, aiming shotguns at the doctor.

A look of determination hardened on the Swede's face and she suddenly swung her staff up, connecting with the underside of Reaper's chin. She twirled it again, hitting him on either side of his ribcage and connecting a blow to his stomach. He grunted and fell back. He tried to stand up, but Mercy swung down, knocking his mask off. He fell, face buried in the sand, Mercy standing over him triumphantly.

A moment of hesitation, then Mercy bent down to turn him over.

"No, Doctor." Jack's rough voice came, filtered through his mask. "That's a ghost's face you don't want to see."

"Who is it, Jack?" Mercy's always gentle voice inquired.

Pharah entered the tent. "Time to go." She gestured behind her back.

"Who's carrying him?" Mercy asked, gesturing towards Soldier.

Pharah crossed the room and picked the wounded man up. "You've got some explaining to do, old man."

"Later, let's get out of here." Morrison growled.

Pharah nodded and ran out of the tent, Mercy behind her. She rocketed into the air, the doctor close on her tail, gliding behind. Soldiers fired from below, but all missed.

When they finally landed several miles outside of Oasis, both flyers were exhausted.

"Explaining how you survived is not the same as explaining what you were doing here." Pharah said, jabbing a finger at the Soldier. Jack was now laying on the ground, Angela tending to him.

"The mission, kid." He grunted.

"You're too old."

Jack laughed, then grunted in pain.

"Our ghost – or Reaper—sure knows how to torture people." Angela said. "There's only so much I can do with the suit. You'll need a real hospital."

"Unlikely." Both Jack and Fareeha said at the same time, then glanced at each other.

Silence.

"Your mother would have been proud." Jack said quietly, as if just between the two of them.

"You didn't know my mother very well." Fareeha whispered.

A gentle silence between the two. Then, the soldier stood.

"How'd you two find me?" Jack asked gruffly, still clutching a particularly bruised side, zipping up his "76" jacket.

"Helix Security got an alert about a possible hostage situation outside of Oasis. They sent me to investigate. I thought it would be a good idea to bring Mercy."

Jack nodded. "Who sent the alert?"

"No idea. I'm sure you can understand that I didn't ask."

Jack nodded, a smile on his face. "Completely."

He slid his mask back on, red visor illuminating. "You two kids stay safe." The now filtered voice said.

"You, too, Jack." Mercy called at the retreating figure.

The two women watched him disappear into the desert.

"So," Fareeha asked, removing her helmet, shaking her dark braids free as the moon set on the horizon. "What now?"

"I don't know." Mercy replied. "Perhaps I will stay here for some time. There are many areas of crisis. I can assist those who need it."

"Right back into the fray." Fareeha smiled. "You haven't changed a bit, Angela."

"I assume you will return to Helix?" Angela asked.

"Of course." Fareeha responded. She hesitated though, tapping her boot on sand. "Perhaps we can both take a break, get some coffee? Talk?"

Mercy could tell something was bothering Fareeha, so she agreed.

What could it hurt?


End file.
